


Splish Splash, a Not-So-Soothing Bath

by Scrawlers



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Sibling Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 01:24:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17033712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlers/pseuds/Scrawlers
Summary: Hornet notices that the Little Ghost is badly worn down while traversing Deepnest, and decides to take him to a hot spring to recover. As it happens, the Little Ghost has other ideas.





	Splish Splash, a Not-So-Soothing Bath

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a little while ago, but in light of Tumblr being . . . Tumblr, I've decided to archive everything here, just in case.

Despite growing up among the beasts of Deepnest, and seeing the mass grave at the bottom of The Abyss, Hornet did not think she had ever seen such a grotesque sight.

It wasn’t so much the little ghost’s condition that sickened her as it was the look in its eyes as it continued among the pitch-dark path. Lit only by the lumafly lantern it held in a shaking grasp, the little ghost traipsed dutifully ahead, the cloth that shielded its worn body tattered, its eyes staring blankly ahead. This, Hornet supposed, she should not hold against it; it was not the little ghost’s fault that it held no spark of life in its eyes, that its gaze spoke of nothing but the Void which saturated every fiber of its being. But that the ghost had faced horrors the likes of which most of Hallownest did not know in Deepnest—that the ghost had Void leaking from the wounds that dotted its body as if it was nothing more than another Deepnest spiderweb—and yet still continued on as if nothing was wrong . . . it was fascinating and repulsive all at once.

A bloodcurdling screech rent the air, and as soon as the sound pierced the forest, the little ghost whipped around. Its nail flashed once—twice—three times, and the deephunter that had made to attack it fell, twitching, to the damp forest floor. The little ghost stared at it a moment, swaying on the spot, and for the briefest of seconds, Hornet thought it might pass out. But after a moment it turned and started ahead once more, nail at its side, the lantern casting a haunted pallor across its mask.

She had seen enough.

“Halt.”

Her voice was enough to make the little ghost pause again, but this time it didn’t raise its nail as it turned. Hornet looked down at it from the branch she stood on, and after a moment elected to leap down to the forest floor. Still the little ghost did not move, but instead stared up at her with a blank stare that looked, against all reason . . . happy. But whether the little ghost was happy to see her or not, it would not say. The little ghost never said anything. None of them ever had.

So in the wake of its silence, Hornet spoke instead. “I know what you seek to do here, and I will not delay you indefinitely. But you look as though you would tip over at any moment. For now you must stop.”

Deepnest was never quiet, and even though the little ghost offered no verbal response, it still wasn’t. What might have been a peaceful moment between them was broken by the sound of legs rustling through leaves, and pincers clicking as beasts considered their luck with a spotted meal. These sounds were familiar to Hornet, and comforting in their own way, and so they were not a distraction; as such, her focus was entirely captured by the little ghost, including and especially when it ignored her warning and turned away to continue heading deeper into the wood.

“Did you not hear what I said to you?” Hornet demanded. This time, the little ghost did not even do her the courtesy of a turn; it kept walking, its gait unsteady. Hornet squeezed her needle ever tighter. “I said  _wait_!”

On her final word, Hornet let her needle fly. It sailed, as intended, around the little ghost in a wide arc. This time the ghost did raise its nail as it turned back to face her, but though she had underestimated it the first time they did battle,  _this_ time the mask was on the other face. Hornet’s thread wrapped around the ghost from behind, and dragged it back toward her in a rough  _yank_ as her needle sailed back into her hand. The ghost landed face-first on the ground, and by the time it picked itself up, its blank stare astonished as it looked up at her, she already had a personalized Seal of Binding lighting up around her fingertips.

The little ghost tried to stand, but its weakened condition meant that its reflexes were not what they should have been. Hornet’s thread snapped around its body, constricting it in a tight cocoon that snuffed out the lumafly lantern and pinned its nail against its body. The little ghost struggled as it fell back to the forest floor, but its weakened state meant that its struggles were futile, and with the lantern snuffed out, it could no longer see.

Hornet, on the other hand, had been raised in the dark.

“You may have marked yourself as king, but that does not mean you no longer need to heed the words that are said to you, little ghost,” Hornet said. Predictably, the ghost said nothing, but there was defiance in the way it continued to wriggle in its bindings. Hornet sighed, and after sheathing her needle she hoisted the ghost up and onto her shoulder. At least, the ghost was still, and if she was not mistaken, this was due just as much to shock as to exhaustion. “Now come along. I know the perfect place for you.”

The creatures of Deepnest were not tamed, but if there was one still conscious they would heed for, it was her. Not all of them did, of course; there were some creatures who, when so consumed by hunger, would attempt to feast upon even her. Most days, Hornet didn’t mind; it was necessary for her to keep her skills sharp considering the infected beast that roamed other areas of Hallownest, and for the trials which she had to put against the likes of the little ghost. (As well as her  _other_ sibling, should the bindings break and the ghost not be enough to hold him at bay.) But now she had little time to spare for the ravenous appetite of the beasts of her homeland, and so she appreciated the way most scurried out of the way, and the devout stalkers that held off those who might otherwise venture forward. Her path cleared, Hornet made it to the hot spring in record time, and when she reached the edge of the glowing pool, she loosed her thread and tossed her wayward little sibling into the water.

The ghost hit the hot spring with a resounding  _splash_ , and Hornet threw up a web of thread to keep the droplets from hitting her face. It took the ghost a moment to resurface; when it did, it did so with hot spring water leaking from the sockets in its mask, twitching as though coughing up water from a mouth she couldn’t see. But already the Void oozing from its wounds was beginning to be replaced by glowing soul; the ghost was panting, but its shoulders sagged in relief as the water seeped inside.

Hornet sat down at the edge of the hot spring.

“Determination is an admirable and necessary trait,” she said, and when the little ghost turned to look at her, continued, “It is undoubtedly the only reason you’ve made it this far. Your determination, and the accursed emptiness inside of you . . . they are the only reason you have hope for a new path forward.” She paused, then hardened her voice as she said, “But there is a limit to determination—a fine line where it bleeds into foolish bullheadedness. You would do well to toe the line wisely, ghost.”

The ghost stared at her a few seconds more before it began to swim backwards in the spring, its face turned up to the impenetrable darkness of the canopy overhead. Hornet took a breath to soothe away any aggravation that was spawned from the ghost ignoring her once again, and followed its example to look above.

It was rare to find a spot of light in Deepnest. When she had first left home to venture into the rest of Hallownest, the lights had almost blinded her. She had been prepared for them; the Weavers had made sure she knew they existed, and the emissaries that Hive Queen Vespa had sent ahead to guide Hornet to her training had warned her of the lights as well. But though she had been ready for them, they had still stung her eyes enough to bring tears to them. Though she had lived among the light for years now, somehow it was the darkness that still felt like home.

Hornet closed her eyes. She supposed in that way, she and the little ghost weren’t so different after all.

“ _Aagh_?!”

The shriek ripped from her throat before she could stop it, her eyes snapping open as scalding, yet soothing water splashed against her face and all down her front. The little ghost was treading water in in the hot spring, staring right at her. The ghost was not near enough for her to grab, yet it was certainly near enough to . . .

“Did you  _splash me_?” Hornet demanded.

The ghost did not answer; it merely continued to tread water, staring at her with an ugly mask of innocence.

Hornet pushed herself to her feet, and grasped her needle in an iron grip.

“Little ghost,” she said slowly, “do you have any concept of the mistake you have just made?”

Once again, the ghost did not answer. But after a second, it floated on its back again, and began slowly swimming away from her.

“Oh no, you will  _not_ escape me,” Hornet said. “You  _will_ face your transgressions! Hi _yah_!”

As she had before, she threw her needle. This time, it skimmed along the surface of the water, parallel to the ghost right before she yanked it back. The result was a large  _splash_ that cascaded over the ghost’s body, and it thrashed and flailed as if the water had actually harmed it.

“Hmph.” Hornet stuck her needle in the ground, and resumed her spot on the spring’s bank as the ghost righted itself in the water. “Learn your lesson well, ghost. You would not want me to teach it again.”

The ghost looked back at her, yet then dove under the water, presumably to hide its shame from being so easily bested. That was fine, really—and by now, it was likely that the ghost  _itself_ was fine. The hot springs had healing properties even she barely understood, but even a soak only a few minutes long worked wonders. The little ghost, being what it was, likely needed even less. She was sure she could resume her duties now without wor—

Something snapped around her ankle, and though she jerked her leg back the moment she felt it make contact, strength the likes of which she was not prepared for dragged her sharply down. Hornet inhaled a lungful of water as she was pulled into the hot spring, her throat burning, but the scald in her throat was nothing compared to the white-hot rage that flared in her veins at the sight of the little ghost releasing her ankle.

 _“You—!”_ she tried to swear, but all she managed was a stream of profane bubbles. The little ghost, wholly unabashed, swam away from her and toward the surface of the water. Coughing,  _choking_ , and filled with a desire to kill she had seldom felt before, Hornet kicked her own way to the surface, and grasped at the shore to cough up the water she had swallowed.

“Y-You . . .” she gasped again, spitting water onto the grass. She looked over her shoulder to see that the little ghost had indeed surfaced, and was staring at her with the look of one who not only knew precisely what it did, but felt not an ounce of shame or regret about it. “You—” She coughed again, her throat still raw, and when she finally regained her voice, she turned the full force of her fury the ghost’s way. “You are going to rue the day you chose to defy your fate and crawl your way out of that disgusting pit.”

The ghost stared back at her for a quiet moment. Then, without ever breaking eye contact, it swatted its hand against the water to splash a few drops in her direction.

With a howl of fury, Hornet launched herself at it.

She was too fast for the ghost to dodge, though not for lack of trying. The moment Hornet pushed off the bank, the ghost jumped backwards as best it could. The issue was that it was in the water, and soaked to the core, at that; it didn’t have the maneuverability that it did on land. Not that it would have mattered regardless; even on land, she was far more agile than it.

But the ghost flung itself backwards as best it could, which resulted in Hornet grabbing it by its tiny legs. She yanked the ghost toward her, and the moment it was properly within reach, she placed her hand on its head and shoved it beneath the water’s surface. Bubbles shot up around her arm, the ghost flailing beneath her palm, but just as she was going to let the little ghost surface to breathe, it tackled her around her middle and dragged her back down to the bottom of the pool.

Hornet twisted in the little ghost’s grasp, but it refused to let go. It wrapped its arms around her wholesale in an infuriating mockery of a hug, latched on like a primal beast securing its final meal. Hornet thrashed, yet the ghost held tight. In need of both oxygen and for the little pest to release her, Hornet kicked up and breached the surface again. The moment she did, she felt hands scrabbling along her torso; she looked down just in time to see the ghost climb her like a tree, its hands gripping her shoulders as it, too, pulled its head above the water.

“ _Release me_ ,” Hornet snarled, and before it had a chance to respond, she shoved the little ghost with all that she had. It fell back in the water with a splash that rebounded against her own face, but as drenched as she already was, she hardly cared.

The little ghost twisted around underwater for a moment before it resurfaced again, staring at her as if nothing at all had just occurred between them.

It was the most bizarre, horrifying little thing. Out of millions, this ghost alone had not only climbed its way out of The Abyss, but had the determination and fortitude to resist infection and keep surviving. Yet despite its supernatural resilience, it could not even take a simple healing bath without flailing and thrashing like an unruly child.

Hornet glared at the little ghost, and then released an irritated huff.

“You had better be worth it,” she said, and then turned to swim back to shore.

It was likely her imagination reading too deeply into it again, but though the ghost had no mouth, just before she turned back to shore, she thought she saw it smile.


End file.
